Moments of a Winchester
by Katie Coleman
Summary: Moments in the life of a Winchester.
1. Roadtrip

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Dean, Sam, Jared or Jensen. But I do own the plots (if that's what you could call them) of the following short stories, and any characters that do not belong to the show.

Authors Notes: This is the first chapter of a series of 'Moments of a Winchester' stories.

Please read and review, and if you have any constructive critisism don't be afraid to tell me!

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"Mary, Mary, Quite contrary, how does your garden grow," Dean hummed, tapping the steering wheel of the 1967 Chevy Impala.

"With silver bells and cockel shells and pretty maids all in a row!" he smiled.

Sam looked over at his brother. He noticed Dean was humming _something_, but he couldn't quite place the tune.

"Dude, what are you singing?"

Deans' humming stopped abrubtly. "Uh- nothing." his face turned a slight crimson red as he tried to disguise his humming.

"_Sure _Dean!" Sam shook his head. When Dean didn't reply, Sam glanced over at him again. "C'mon, you were so!"

Dean turned his head to face Sam. "Was _not_ !" He fiddled with the Impala's gear stick before turning back to face the seemingly never-ending stretch of road before them.

"Were so!" Sam chuckled.

"Was not, giggle boy!" Dean shot.

"Were So!"

"Was not!"

"Were so!"

"Was not!"

"Were _so_!"

"Okay, okay I _was_." Dean huffed, his face flushing a deep crimson again.

"So, what _were_ you singing?" Sam smiled at his brothers obvious embarassment.

"Uh, You know that nursery rhyme Mary Mary quite contrary?" Dean asked, staring through the windscreen so that he wouldn't have to meet his brothers' eyes.

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"I was singing that." Dean mumbled.

Sam lent back in his seat and let out a loud, deep laugh.

"Happy now?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Oh, very" he grinned.


	2. College Fund

"Swear Jar"

**A/N: **This one is set around the time where Dean is eighteen and Sammy's fourteen.

Dean looked up from the newspaper as Sam walked through their hotel room's door.

"What's that?" He asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow towards the jar his brother was holding.

"A Swear Jar. I bought it from the supermarket on my way home for you and Dad." He smiled, dumping his school back-pack on the kitchenette floor.

"You _what_?" Dean demanded, confused.

"I bought a Swear Jar for you and Dad to use," Sam replied calmly. "It was only two dollars and I thought you could use it- y'know."

"What the hell did you do that for!" Dean rose to his feet, and Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement as he watched his brother's face get redder and redder in color.

"Because," He placed the jar down on the kitchen bench. "You both swear like troopers."

"You put a dollar in each time you swear." He added.

"And where does this money go to after we've put it in?"

Sam shrugged. "My college fund..."

Dean shook his head no. "I've told you before Sammy, you've got to stick with us. Dad'll blow his top if you go away to college! And where'll that get you anyway? You'll never have an apple-pie life, Sam, just face it!"

This time Sam shook his head. "When's Dad getting back?" He asked, tactfully changing the subject before the argument grew into something bigger.

"Dunno. Didn't say." The eldest shrugged. Sam nodded, and without another word walked off towards the room he and his brother were sharing to get changed.

"Bloody hell." Dean muttered, before the jar that Sammy had bought from the store caught his eye and a wave of guilt washed over him.

Silently, he walked over towards the bench, fished around in his pocket and pulled out a dollar. "Happy now?" He whispered as he pushed the money into the jar.


	3. Good to be Home

Another installment in the Moments of a Winchester series. This one is set when Sammy is six, and Dean is ten.

"**Good to be Home**"

"Daddy!" Sammy yelped from his position on the floor as John entered their small hotel room. He jumped to his feet and ran to his father, leaving a baffled Dean to pick up the small figurines from Sam's 'zoo animal' play set.

"Sammy!" John greeted him happily as he took his youngest son into a warm embrace. Letting his son go, he kissed Sammy on the forehead before turning to his eldest son. "Dean."

"Dad." Dean grunted unhappily as he packed the walrus in the box next to a seal.

"Oh, come on, son. Be a bit happier to see me! After all, I just got my ass kicked by a poltergeist." John rolled up his sleeve to reveal a red-blue bruise forming on his arm. Sam wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Did it hurt, Daddy?" He asked. John shook his head and grinned. "No, because I'm a big, strong Winchester, just like you and your brother." He told Sam. "Now, who's up for some take-out?"

Dean glared up at their father angrily. "We've already eaten."

"I want tacos!" Sam beamed, ignoring his older brother.

John looked down at Sam. "You know what, kiddo? I think that might just be a good idea!" He said, running a hand through his son's already-too-long shaggy brown hair. "I want tacos too!" He added, looking at Dean. "You up for it, son?"

"I told you, we've already eaten." Dean spat bitterly.

John took a step towards his elder son. "Oh, I don't know, Dean… I think everyone's up for something other than Spaghetti-O's tonight."

Sam screwed his face up in disgust again. "Yuck. Sgabetti-O's."

"My treat." John added, hoping to muster at least a smile from Dean. The eldest of the boys shrugged again.

"Please, Dean?" Sam begged gazing down at his brother with the best set of puppy-dog eyes that only Samuel Winchester could 'pull off'. It worked.

"Fine!" Dean rose to his feet silently and followed his father and his little brother out through the door and towards his Dad's 1967 Chevrolet Impala. A flicker of a smile spread across Dean's face as he watched John and Sammy interact- they were the only real family he had, and it felt good to be 'home'.


	4. Puppy Dog's Tails

Dean sat in the back seat of their father's 1967 Chevy, silently humming away to the unidentifiable song playing out on the car radio as his baby brother sat next to him, kicking the back of the passenger's seat with the tips of his toes.

"Daddy, can we get a dog?" Sam asked innocently.

In the driver's seat, John chuckled to himself and looked at his youngest son through the rear-view mirror.

"And why would we want one of those?"

"Because," Sam said, matter-of-factly, "research shows that over eighty percent of the American population own dogs, and that, out of that eighty percent, almost seventy five percent of those people are happier than the twenty percent that don't."

Dean looked over at his younger brother in amusement. "And what about that other five percent, Sammy? Why aren't they so happy?" he asked.

Sam looked at his shoes, a little confused. "Well… maybe they aren't so happy because their Mommy and Daddy make them clean up after their dog when it goes to the toilet in the house. But we don't have to worry about that, right Dad? Because we don't have a house." He looked up at his older brother, beaming.

Dean smirked. "At a boy, Sammy. You're such a geek."

"Am not!" Sammy sulked.

"Are too." The elder grinned.

"Am not!"

"Okay, boys," John interrupted. "What were we talking about…?"

"Dogs!" Sam cried cheerfully.

"And why we can't ever own one." Dean added.

Sam looked up at his bigger brother, wide eyes full of tears. "Why?"

"Because, Sammy, dogs need a home. Where would we put him?" Dean asked.

"In the trunk." Sam replied nonchalantly.

"I don't think he'd fit." His brother told him.

"_She_." Sam corrected.

"What would you feed her?"

"Dog food."

"But what would she drink?"

"Water. And if we couldn't find that, I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing some of Daddy's beers."

Dean sighed. "Sammy, do you really think a dog would fit in the trunk?"

Sam turned around in his seat and looked at the car's trunk through the back window. He nodded.

"Even with all of Dad's guns?" Dean asked.

"I like Dad's guns. She would too." Sammy told him.

"But what about when Dad went on a hunt?"

"Then I'd take care of her, silly!" Sam laughed.

"Dogs are a lot of work, Sammy. You have to feed them, and walk them, and clean up after them when they… you know, do their business."

"So?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, Sammy…"

Sam looked up at his brother in desperation. "Please Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, buddy."

"Daddy," Sam beamed up at his father. "Can I have a puppy?"


End file.
